Protogee
by Enki
Summary: Primarily a Rock fanfic, but deals with the other "underling" characters as well.
1. Default Chapter

Got inspired from playing way too much Capcom vs SNK 2 and reading the SNK profiles of these characters ^^; This is my first entry to Fanfiction.net, so feedback would be really appreciated, and stuff.  
  
Disclaimer: All characters copyright to their respective company, namely, SNK. Please don't sue, I'm *encouraging* people to worship the greatness of Fatal Fury and King of Fighters ^^;  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Rock watched them, from the other side of the fence, play basketball in the school courtyard that afternoon. They were playing three on three, but without the third. The playing feild was just concrete with two hoops on each end and a plastic bench on each side. This wasn't exactly the place for luxury, as he himself was standing right next to the dumpster, and heard the wail of a police siren not far.   
  
Nothing like spending the afternoon watching them play. Most of the people in those courtyards were pretty good, and Rock spend a lot of time watching them and trying to learn those moves and integrate it for his own playing time. But it looked like there couldn't be any playing that afternoon, as was the case of the missing sixt player. While they were arguing about who to choose as third, one of them saw him.  
  
"Hey you," he called out. A lanky, dark skinned boy, with the ball in his hand came closer. "Can you play?"  
  
He smiled humbly, then shrugged, "a bit...yeah."  
  
"Well, I suppose you could do," he scratched his bald head and inspected the boy. "Just come over the other side and..."  
  
"Thanks, but that's not necessary." He supressed his joy at being picked. While frequenting that place every day, the courts always had sufficient players that he ended up being a spectator. Now that one hadn't showed up in this group, it was finally his chance.  
  
Like a cat, he crouched then sprang himself up the fence. The fence must've been about 20 feet high or so. Nothing major. With a gymnast's skill he landed there on his hands, and sommersaulted to the otherside, landing right side up. He brushed himself off and placed his red jacket on the bench. The amazed group were staring at him.  
  
"Woah. He's playing on our side!"  
  
"Yeah right," said the guy with the basketball. "We saw him first!"  
  
He threw the ball at Rock, who grabbed it with both hands. "Let's play," he announced as he twirled the ball in his hands.  
  
  
  
They had won. iNaturally/i. The rest had already left to hang out in another place while he was left behind. That match was quite a rush. To be able to use the techniques and movements he had practiced, but never had the oppertunity to use, was great. Even though the other team didn't appreciate it much, he thought to himself and laughed.  
  
They had left behind a towel for use. Rock picked it up and wiped the sweat away from his forehead, plus pushing back the strands of blond hair that were out of place. As the towel rubbed through his neck, it made him realize just how much the heat had hit him. Finishing, he took up his jacket and left the same way he came in.  
  
iMy name is Rock. Or that's what they call me anyway.../i  
  
South Town has been my home all my life. I know that now this place is supposed to be called South Town-2, but it's still the same place as before. The greed, corruption and degredation, the very spirit of the original town, still lives on. It's impossible to go one full hour without the police siren, or gun shots, or a criminal protesting to arrest, or the occasional drunken fight, raging outside. There's one major difference between the two towns.  
  
Geese Howard. I guess he could be called my 'dad', but I'll never allow anyone to say that, least of all myself. He never left me anything. The only concrete evidence I have of him is the few fighting techniques he taught me at a young age.   
  
Parents never really were a huge part of my life. Mom died when I was young, I don't even remember the circumstances well enough. He passed away a few years later too. My freind Terry stayed with me all the time. "Raise" isn't a good word, though, because someone like Terry just isn't parental, really. We spent most of our times travelling, or hanging out with other kids. Terry is the kind of guy whose really popular with the younger kids, it's really cool.  
  
I like basketball. Much more than the other sport I practice. In fighting, you were against a person. You struggled against them, and you either won or lost. Then you moved on and left. With basket, however, it's much more of a team effort. It took both team work and skill. The goal wasn't to beat anyone up either, but to just reach the goal. Jump high off the ground, away from the earth, and soar into the basket. The opponents weren't as much the goal as merely obstacles to be overcome.  
  
With all the little kids around, I had to hold back a bit and could never really play in full extent. Which is why this afternoon was the coolest. To be able to play freely, naturally, like that was really fun. I hope it'll happen again in the future.  
  
I'd better leave. It's almost time for dinner and Terry'll starve -or worse, he'll blow all our cash on fastfood- if I don't go the groceries and get back in time.  
  
  
  
While budget was tight, Rock smirked triumphantly at what he had gotten. It was good enough to have a nice dinner that night. Just as well- he was in the mood for a little extra cooking, he just hoped Terry would bear with him a bit while he practiced in that art. He had always prided in his ability to cook, coming without any formal lessons, and seeing everyone eat happily at what he had done was a great bonus too.  
  
He passed near the alley where the school courtyard was. There were no lights on, something you'd expect in a school courtyard at night. He thought it was an electric problem when he heard, "that'll be twenty bucks a pop."  
  
Of course, he rolled his eyes. Another thing you'd expect in a school courtyard at night- the echoing sound of drug dealing in under the cloak of darkness. Probably a new comer into the whole deal, because the big guys didn't go to such skimpy places.  
  
"Yeah, man, sure," that voice sounded familiar. When a passing car came through the headlights caught side of inside the schoolyard. Rock saw it was the same guy who offered him to play that afternoon.  
  
"Can we go already?" Another person in the game. Except this one was lighter, squeakier, and much much younger. So they got little kids dragged into this now, eh? If Terry had taught him anything, it was not to stand for that.  
  
He placed the grocery bags on the side and leapt over the fence. His landing was soft enough not to catch the notice of the drug dealer. This wasn't the usual punk, though, but a classily dressed gentlemen in sunglassess and greased up hair. Probably a wanna be trying to copy the movies.  
  
"Not interupting anything, am I?" Rock grinned as the three culprits yelped in surprise. "Oh, I guess I am. Sorry about that but..."  
  
The buyers had already walked away, leaving only the sound of footsteps. The dealer was a different case. He took off his shades and charged with a punch. Slow, not without it's practice, but still not good enough. Rock managed to sidestep it and preformed a high kick on the open opponent.  
  
"...you really should keep it down in here." He concluded. The dealer grunted and came in with another punch. Rock defended it, as he had done with the punches and kicks coming afterward. Tired of this little game, Rock kneed the man, and then preformed an uppercut.  
  
The dealer fell on the ground unconscious. Rock wiped the blood from his hand and inspected the fallen victim. A small paper peered out from his front pocket. The kid picked it up and saw a scribbled list of names. The other buyers, most likely, Rock thought, this isn't just some run of the mill private dealer then.   
  
Michaels, Robertsons, Kevins, all the name of the people who were caught up in this little game. The blue ink started running up, but the names were still visible enough to read. The inscription on top, however, caught his attention. He bit his lower lip and blinked, inspecting the name once, twice, to make sure it was a fluke. But he knew it was true when the ink, slightly dripping, spelt out the word "Howard".  
  
  
Terry finished the last bite of his steak and wiped his mouth. Rock picked up the plate and placed the whole accessories in the bag marked 'To Wash'. When he returned to their campsite, Terry had already reclined in his sleeping bag.  
  
"Sorry 'bout the wait," Rock said as he started unfolding his own bag.  
  
"Hey, no problem," Terry replied, letting out a covered up burp. "Wasn't really that hungry in the first place."  
  
"Sure you weren't," he smiled.  
  
"I'm not that bad," the older man protested. "And if we get such classy food for waiting a few hours, then it's worth it."  
  
"In your dreams," Rock laughed. "Unless you can concentrate all that wolf spirit to hunt down a more paying job."  
  
"The wolf must never be used for unimportant matters!" Terry joked. "So...how was your day?"  
  
"Pretty good." The sleeping bag unfolding, Rock lied down and stared at the sky. The crickets still chirping and the dying fire giving it's last desperate cackles. "Managed to play some street ball."  
  
"Cool," Terry, who couldn't be seen, said. "Who won? As if I have to ask."  
  
"Heh," Rock said. "Hey...Terry, I have to ask you something."  
  
"Shoot."  
  
"Were the Howards ever in the drug dealing business?" A naive question, sure, but he had to open up the topic somehow.  
  
Terry coughed. "I don't know."  
  
"Well, see, I was wondering. Because of such an impressive empire was built, they had to find the money isomwhere/i and..."  
  
"They weren't that impressive. Now the Orochi, that was impressive. All the cult arrangement and connections."  
  
Out of his backpack he took out the cap Terry had given him. It always slept by his side, having a huge sentimental value. Rock sighed. "Well, okay."  
  
"Good night."  
  
"'Night"  
  
  
He looked up at the stars. From the outskirts of town they were much clearer without the floodlights and smog blocking the sky. The mauve firament with bright silver attachment to them, some were brighter than others. Rock said again, "hey Terry?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
He didn't know why he was asking so many questions tonight. "What is my real name?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"I mean," he smiled weakly. "Rock's a cool name and all. But I can't really imagine a parent giving that name to her kid. It'd be like, naming their son a stone."  
  
"I don't really know," Terry said, and feigned a yawn. "I'm a bit tired now. Let's talk tommorrow, shall we?"  
  
"Right," Rock said and turned over.  
  
  
i Well, I guess everyone wants to know their origins. A teen phase..or whatever./i  
  
The flame had gone completely out and Terry was asleep, as evidenced by the snores. Rock couldn't get himself to sleep, so he got up and sat on his honda bike. Turning the handle almost mechnically and staring off into the night sky. Everything seemed so distant.  
  
What was the matter? A "phase" could be rightly called, but not really. More like a calling. The fact of the matter was, for the past few weeks his thoughts were plagued by a lot of questions. About himself, his family connections, and how the wheel will turn next in his life. He tried to ask Terry about it, but he just pretended not to know anything, and changed the subject to some other exciting story that used to entertain Rock when he was younger.  
  
He turned the handle faster then before, and tugged on his right glove a bit. Not that he could blame Terry, those sorts of questions couldn't be very comfortable for him too. He'd rather burry the past behind. Unfortunately, for Rock that wasn't an option. The answers, in the end, would have to be found by himself.  
  
Rock looked at the paper. "Howards". That could be just some generic dealers trying to gain fame by using a name so prestegious in the crime ring, his rational mind said. The rest of him was still left in the murky depths. The "what-if" never left.  
  
He tore the paper in hope that he could just leave this sort of thing behind. His mind still glued the paper together, and he could remember every single name on the list as if it were right in front of him. Except the "Howards" was written in much bigger.  
  
So be it, then. He walked towards the now extinguished camp fire and tip toed over Terry. The instincts of a fighter didn't come to the older man so late at night. Rock went over to the jacket. He also saw the cap.  
  
Starting up his ride, he adjusted the cap on tightly on his head and, with a frown of determination, he turned on the handle, this time producing noise, once, twice. The lights of the city could be seen a few miles away, and that was his destination now. He nodded, and headed back for the city. 


	2. Chapter 2

"Well of course," the brown-haired boy grinned widely. The girls surrounded his chair and listened eagerly to his story. "When I used my mad skillz, those evil guys couldn't withhold a chance!"  
  
Okay, so his English needed a little practice. But it was the emotion expressed behind the words that mattered! They were burning with the spirit, even if the mode of expression was a bit brocken. And the girls were all around him and, being far away in America, his girlfreind couldn't catch him in this little act. Just a little meaningless flirting never hurt anyone. It was the perfect crime, not even a crime even!  
  
"Oh really? That's so nice!" They giggled.  
  
"Of course, they were no match for the team, common criminals always fear when we're around to stop their evil ways!"  
  
They all laughed. They were so impressed by his stories, naturally, and couldn't resist it. It was great. All four of them were blonde, and tanned as if they had come back from a beach (he had to ask them where it was, it's been too long since he had a swim) They said, "oh come on, we're not stupid. We know that that's Kyo who did that."  
  
His grin widened further, and now involved teeth. "Well...yeah. But myself was Master Kusanagi's faithful sidekick all the way!"  
  
All five of them left. Ah well, that was probably his punishment for trying to indulge in these things. He almost imagined his girlfriend's invisible finger waving at him for his attempts. How great it had been avoided just in time! Let it never be said that Shingo Yabuki was unfaithful in any way. He leaned back on his chair and looked outside. The small cafe was on the prettiest side of the street. So pretty that it seemed to be in a completely different town. High class, upper caste, kind of thing.   
  
So this was America, then. He had seen it only breifly in the tournament, but never had enough time to enjoy it. And a vacation just might be well for his burning spirit. The flames needed fanning to make sure they were in top condition for the fight. And relaxtion was the best fan for the job.  
  
But yet, the flames can never really be quelled. It burned inside of him, and that was all that mattered. Except....it would make it even better if the fires inside could be brought outside too. All this time training under Kyo, all the tournaments fought, all the opponents that met the hot sting of his fighting skills, and yet nothing ever really happened.  
  
Just one of those things, eh! He knew if he could train harder, and become more obedient to Kyo, things could get better. Even if it would take almost another decade to get stronger. Ever vigilant to the words of the master, thinking of nothing but to please the master, hoping that a spark of the master's wisdom is the only thing occuping his dreams, that is the way of the student!  
  
Why SouthTown 2? Oh...eh, that's right. It was to be closer to that fateful fight those years ago. The one where he finally managed to go solo and that was the deciding moment when he was finally accepted in Team Kusanagi. That was where the furnance inside of him was burning at it's maximum heat. A solar flare of power occupied him during that time, and it was the crowning glory of his fighting life. He had to find that fire once more, and retracting it to this spot was the best idea.  
  
He could do it. For Shingo Yabuki, possibilities were limitless!  
  
  
  
  
The kid from last night entered the changing room. It didn't take long for Rock to navigate around the place and find him. His footsteps were silenced by the knocking of the lockers and his stealth managed to get him to behind. He yelled in surprise when he found Rock behind him and placed his back to the locker. "Hey...what's up?"  
  
Rock didn't say anything, instead, he grabbed the kid by the collar and pushed him back. He yelped again, this time more in annoyance then surprise, and his eyes shot up in surprise. He had been lifted off the ground by a few centimeters. "Yo yo....chill. This isn't cool!"  
  
"Nope," Rock said, and formed his free hand into a fist. "In fact, I guarantee it'll be quite hot."  
  
A phantom blue flame enguled the hand, the beginning of the burning knuckle. The other broke into a sweat, laughing nervously. "Oh man...what's up? I mean, I'll do anything just..."  
  
"Where'd you find the drug dealer last night?"  
  
"I don't know no...!"  
  
Rock's hand glowed again.   
  
"Okay, okay. I'll talk. Just...stop doing that."  
  
"Where was it?" He let the buyer down, but put his fist to the locker just in case the kid had the wrong idea of trying to run away.  
  
"Near the edge, where all the junk was."  
  
How fitting, Rock thought. The debris of the first SouthTown no one bothered to build over. Now if only he could get the dealers to come again. "Call them," Rock said.  
  
"W...what?!"  
  
"They already know you, right?" He said. "Call them, and tell them to meet you there tonight, Okay?"  
  
"That's crazy!"  
  
"You're persistent," Rock punched the locker, not enough to cause a dent, but a loud enough sound near the kid's ear to inspire fright.  
  
"I'll do it," he said finally, shaking in his voice and his knees.  
  
Rock grinned. Excellent.  
  
  
  
  
Terry yawned and stretched. Nothing like waking up in the morning.....er, afternoon.  
  
A little break did some major good for him. Except now he'd have to do his daily chores faster to catch up. Which didn't matter since they were light on that day. "Must be that heavy food," he said jokingly, "put me right to sleep."  
  
He turned to his side and saw Rock had gone. Got impatient of waiting for this old man to wake up from his heavy slumber and decided to go off on his own, eh? A teen's supposed to do that kind of stuff, good to see him not waiting up like a worried housewife anymore.  
  
A little pang told him something wasn't completely right, though.  
  
It was probably not a good idea to stay here too long. The kid had too much past baggage attached to this place. Staying a bit too long in graveyards and you just might start to see ghosts. And ghosts are never pleasant to experience.  
  
Maybe.....it was about time they started exploring other place again. It had been quite a while since Terry wandered around, and all this staying down just wasn't his style.  
  
  
He was there, at the scene of the fight. The ghosts of his past battles sprang up on him like the cleansing fires. Aaaaah, he melted in the nostaglia of ages past. The greatest, most glorious battle of his life was there in front of him. How magnificent, how wonderful. Who knew that broken glass and destroyed concrete could have so much emotional value.  
  
"Thirty bucks," a voice said.  
  
What was that? Someone else was there next to him. What would people be doing in such a run down old place. He glanced around, looking for the origins of that voice. When he saw the two people in there, they were exchanging the evil substance known as drugs!  
  
How vile. How dare they disturb a place with such sacred feeling to him, a shrine of bocken glass and destroyed concrete, by engaging in such unlawful activites. His eyes targetted the man in business suit, he was the criminal luring the young boy into a life of crime and unlawful activities.  
  
Silence, a step on glass and the man, with a bruise on his cheek, turned around to hear the war cry of "SHINGO KIIIIIIIIIIIIICK!" before getting a sting of Shingo's attack against illegal perpetrators.  
  
"Shit, that is -it-," the man cried, getting up from the attack. "I'm quitting this business, it ain't worth it."  
  
As he ran away, the truimphant Shingo looked at the trembling boy. "You should know better than to trust those people. You don't need those substances, for the fire is and always will be inside of you!"  
  
"Where -do- these superpowered kung fu types come from?" The boy said, and ran off, yelling. "And why the fuck do they keep chasing *me*!"  
  
Shingo scratched his head, "what was his concerns?" He grinned. "Oh well."  
  
"Nice going," yet another person came and said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I was just about to catch that creep and you let him go," another boy come out of the shadows and angry. He was wearing a red jacket and had blond messy hair. His eyes were a fiery red, something you don't see everyday.  
  
"Once you're caught in the heat of the moment!" Shingo raised his hands. He lowered them as he said, "hey...you seem familiar."  
  
The boy said, "hmph. I don't know who you are, but kindly don't get in my way again."  
  
"That cap!" Shingo cried, ignoring the threats. "It's Terry's cap, isn't it? It's Terry's cap!"  
  
"How do you know...?"  
  
"He fought in the tournament. The announcer pronounced his name for the match as 'T-ay-ree Bow-gard' and we got into the match and fought. In the tournament!"  
  
Rock blinked, "what tournament?"  
  
"Mooooh, you're joking, right?" He raised his hands again, like an announcer. "The world famous: King of Fighters! Is there any another?!"  
  
"There were a lot of years," Rock shrugged. "You could've been in the disqualifying league of any of them."  
  
"What what whaaaat did you just say? That's incorrent," the blazing man cried out. "The burning spirit, the fiery passion for battle, the burning sense of rightness, do you not know who I am?!"  
  
"No."  
  
He sighed, exasperated. "This is a joke, right? Doesn't anyone know of Shingo Yabuki, Master Kusanagi's best disciple!"  
  
"Well, whatever," he started walking away.   
  
"Wait wait wait!" The blond boy sighed when Shingo tried to stop him. "Are you a student of Mr. Bogards?"  
  
"You could...say that," he shrugged.  
  
"GREAT!" Shingo jumped in cheer. "This is wonderful, two students of great fighters are united to stand against the evils of the world! Which manifests itself was....which form now, exactly?"  
  
"Listen," he said. "I really don't want to throw threats around or anything. So please, stay away. This is really none of your concerns."  
  
"Nonsense," he replied. "Where there is evil, it is always my concern. It's the fire inside of my that refuses to stand for that villainy!"  
  
The blond sighed, "and there is no way to talk you out of this."  
  
"Never!"  
  
"Fine," he spat out. "Just...don't do anything loud."  
  
"YES!" He said, breaking the compromise in just a matter of seconds. "We shall prove the masters have taught us well by breaking this wave of crime. There shall be no way of standing between Shingo Yabuki and....!" He scratched his head. "ano...ummm....what iis/i your name again? Heheheh."  
  
"Rock," he said. His concentration was not there, instead staring at the sky.  
  
"Shingo Yabuki and Rock, let's GO!"  
  
"Hold on a sec, Shingo *and*....?"  
  
  
  
You meet the strangest characters in these places. It seemed like even the other countries were shipping their eccentrics here.  
  
Shingo Yabuki, hmm? That was the one Terry talked about last time, the annoyingly enthusiastic one who hung around the winner of the King of Fighers, Kusanagi, was it? Rock wondered if that guy was around here too. Was there a tournament going on, or just a vacation? Well, whatever. As long as he didn't have to meet up with them again.  
  
When he got back to the campsite Terry had already packed up everything and inside his sleeping bag. There were paperbags with the words "Arby's" on the front. "Hope you don't mind me eating," Terry said, sensing Rock's arrival.  
  
"Nah, it's alright," Rock said. "Sorry I didn't give you a head's up about my leaving all day."  
  
"It's alright, I kinda knew that'd happen."  
  
"Oh?" Rock said, a bit concerned.  
  
"Is it a girl?" Even though he couldn't see Terry's face, he knew it was filled with a malicious grin right now.  
  
"Cut it out," Rock laughed nervously with a slight blush. "I was just hanging around town."  
  
"That's good," Terry said. "Better stay there while it lasts."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Yeah," a slight grumble and turning of sides. "We're gonna be leaving for a bit tommorrow morning, 'kay?"  
  
This....wasn't good. 


	3. Chapter 3

The courtyard was empty that day. So Rock took a ball and started dribbling it. It resounded through the entire alleyway, along with the cars and sirens, as he dribbled a couple of times, grabbed the ball for a moment, then started dribbling again.  
  
He wondered about this situation. It was one thing to leave at daybreak to explore a close city, but to leave, in the middle of the night, to go back to a city that was at least a fifty miles away. That, that was called running away.  
  
Dribble, catch, dribble.  
  
Did Terry know about this? Did a bit of the paper fall on the ground and the older man managed to read between the lines? He would say something had that been the case, right? Just getting all cryptic was not like him. So what, then? They'd been at Southtown 2 for weeks, quite enough to make Rock believe this residence would be a little bit more than just passing by, as there was no tournament or anything material to keep them here.  
  
Dribble, catch, dribble.  
  
Of course it wouldn't take long for him to catch on Rock's little schemes. He'd see that the boy had left and come following soon after. The scent of southtown was still fresh on Rock, and Terry would be able to track that down easily. Then he would never know about this dealer thing.  
  
Even still, if he could be stealthy enough, he might buy some time. Or better yet, this might be solved quickly and he wouldn't need any time to buy.  
  
Yeah, right.  
  
Dribble, catch, dribble.  
  
Up and down, up and down. He knew he could do it with enough patience and tracking down. His plan would've worked last night if it weren't for the newcomer to interupt anything. At least he knew he could lure the snake out of the den for just enough time to catch it.  
  
Up and down, high and low. The better alternative would've been to just get out while he wasn't too deeply involved in this. But that wasn't much of an option, his spirit had already decided a target for the hunt. The paper was still freshly imprinted in his mind.  
  
Up and down, high and low, Bogard and Howard. No matter how hard he tried to supress it, the family karma was still inside of him. Hiding it by using burning knuckle, rising tackle and power dunk was useless. Even if he would never use it, never even let Terry know about his techniques, he could still use reppuken and raging storm, the techniques his father had shown him.  
  
Up and down, high and low, Bogard and Howard, power wave and reppuken. So this would be a quest for answers, wouldn't it? Or something for that effect. Unlike Terry, he had learned that the past would still be behind him. He couldn't use his last name for anything, and even when Terry let him borrow the Bogard name, his hand always grew numb when he had to write that in front of his name.  
  
Dribble, catch, throw.  
  
The ball landed right into the basket. And Rock walked away from the court.  
  
  
He had left.  
  
Without even a word, he had just packed up his stuff and left. So much for partnership, or even friendship, he had just gone his own way without any indication of where, or why, he disapeared to.   
  
Damnit, Rock, what the hell was wrong with you? Terry picked up the empty sleeping back and grimly folded it away. What was with that kid these days? Playing the little delinquent was so unlike his gentle natured self. But yet, it couldn't be an abduction. Rock was too strong in battle to let that happen, and his bike was gone too. He had used it to ride away from there.  
  
The tracks were washed away by last night's slight drizzle, but even the rain couldn't wash away the suspicious scent of where he, by all likelyness, had left for.  
  
  
"A winner is you!"  
  
The opponent kicked the arcade cabinet in frustration and swore. His actions went on deaf ears, for the ringing and loud sounds of the play area drowned every soundwave under a tsunami of decibals.  
  
Another person placed his coins and tried their luck against Rock. Over his character's life gauge was the words "20 Wins" over them, with the ever humbling "0" on the other side. This streak still continued as after one minute yet another frustrated customer left the area.  
  
"A winner is you!"  
  
Rock looked at the game, it was hard to distinguish one fighting game from the other these days. The character he had chosen was blond, big, and had some goofy screaming lines and exagerated win poses, the token American character in these games. The rest of the fighters ranged from the usual cast of ninjas, martial artists and street punks. With the big bad boss with world domination scheme in the end.  
  
Another player stepped in and placed two quarters. Rock just concentrated on the screen, not really caring to see who his next win would be against. The unknown player managed to break the barrier of noise, as his war cry was actually audible. "Leeeeeeeeet's go!"  
  
Dodge, punch, kick, special move. Dodge, dodge, block, charge, counter hit, charge, combo, special move, kick, kick, kick, punch, punch, combo, supermove.  
  
"A winner is you!"  
  
The American character flexed exageratedly and beamed, a sparkling flash coming from his teeth as he said, in very brocken, mangled English, "the burning eagle soars into the light!" Whatever that was supposed to mean.  
  
"Daaaaaaaaa!" His words could still be heard. Now Rock felt the opponent looking at him as he said, "if you're going to win at least don't be so cool about it!"  
  
He turned around. It was Shingo. "Huh? Oh, eh."  
  
"That was some good skills," Shingo looked at the numbers above the energy bar and whistled. "22 wins? Impressive! You must have been practicing this game for days."  
  
"It's my first time."  
  
"Whaaaaat?" Shingo screamed.  
  
"All these games follow the same principle, it's just a matter of finding your own groove into things," Rock said. He still didn't pry his eyes away from the machine.  
  
"Much like true fighting," Shingo said.  
  
"I suppose, yeah."  
  
"Well then!" Shingo put his hand on Rock's shoulder. "What are you doing wasting your time on such a small game? With your burning spirit you should go for the highest peak of challenge!"  
  
The older boy pryed Rock away and guided him, hand on shoulder, to the biggest cabinet of the place. It was one of those fancy machines from Japan where people could actually sit and the screen was bigger than any wide screen TV. There was a crowd surrounding the game. The title was written, in flaming orange and yellow, on top.  
  
"Mega Road Battler Third Impression?" Rock read the title.  
  
"It's all the rage in Japan," Shingo said with a grin. "And looks like it's the same here. Let's go!"  
  
Easier said than done. An entire crowd had gathered around the machine, and it was thanks to Shingo's yelling and pushing that they managed to squeeze through at the end. When they arrived, another frustrated yell was emited by one of the players as he left, thumping the machine as he did. The crowd cheered as the victor of the battle threw fake kisses to his fans.  
  
Shingo said, "don't let such a fool win once more. Come on, let's show him how us true fighters conduct ourselves!"  
  
Rock sat down. Shingo started clapping and cheering like a derenged fanboy. Rock's opponent, a slim man dressed in black, with long neon green hair, inspected him from top to bottom and 'hmmphed'. "So this is my opponent? They get easier by the second."  
  
Counting the match before they had even begun. The man turned completely to his side, half his face was covered by hair, "no matter. The newbies are always more enjoyable to beat, they still have some hope in them to crush!"  
  
The crowd laughed, he raised his arm and the entire people started chanting the word, "Spiral! Spiral! Spiral!"  
  
Shingo tried to counter that by chanting 'Rock! Rock!' but even his loud voice was drowned out by the majority. The man called "Spiral" smiled arrogantly and turned to the screen.  
  
Rock looked at the character selection. Spiral quickly chose his character, a black haired female with a sword and dressed all in black. Rock carefully cruised through all the selection. One character caught his attention, a small boy dressed in a blue gi, similar to the hero, with a loose headband around his head.  
  
The machine 'zoomed' in response to his selection, and Spiral laughed. "Lan? But he's the joke character! If you're going to play me at least itry/i to make it seem like you have a chance this side of hell."  
  
The entire crowd followed their laughter. He payed no attention to them, as the announcer started the first battle. Spiral's character, Lotus, just stood there, apparently waiting for Lan to familiarize with his own moves. When Rock tried the fireball, Lan responded with a squeak and a weak, very short range punch with a small blast of energy coming from it. The uppercut was just as discouraging, as he jumped, much shorter than a normal jump even, and quickly fell to the ground on his back, causing some damage. The third move was just as bad, Lan started running to preform a dash move, then tripped after a just a few steps.  
  
Spiral laughed, said "Let's play" and Lotus let loose her barrage of attacks. A sword slash, a low kick, and a move where the appeared from behind and started slashing even more, mercilessly pummeled the young kid until he finally fell to the ground. Not content with simply pinning, the Lotus grunted, leapt into the air, and stabbed the fallen character.  
  
Lan rolled away and stood there. The impatient little kid started cleaning out his ears and shook his head. Lotus dashed in for an attack and then was blasted away with the small energy, connecting just in time when she was about to hit.  
  
While the attack itself was pathetic, the damage wasn't. It was a critical hit, and had drained away at a decent amount of energy. Everyone surrounding the game gasped, but Spiral himself was unphased. Before Lotus could get up, she was assulted with a punch-punch-kick-punch-kick five hit combo, which finally chained into that uppercut, connecting to hit twice, damage gained from when Lan fell too.  
  
The little kid sidestepped back and taunted. Lotus jumped into the air, but just when Lan was going to counter with an anti air, she sprung up even higher and came down hard with a sword strike. Cheap move, she preformed. Rock pressed the joystick back to prevent any other downed attack. Just as he had predicted, Spiral preformed that move again, leaving Lotus wide open for the deciding side kick that Lan preformed, a dramatic clash sound emitted as the letters K and O appeared on the screen.  
  
Silence fell on the onlookers. Spiral grimanced away from the crowd. No way would he let this *kid* beat him at the game. Spiral was a true adept in this game, and at everything else, and no one would pry that title away. He gave Rock a predatory grin and said, "playtime is over." Quoting his role model from the tournaments on TV.  
  
Shingo cheered. One point for the students! This battle was almost as exciting as a real one, with the same burning inspiration that fell on the two opponents. He knew Rock would win, this was in the bag.  
  
When Round 2 started, the crowd picked up their frenzy of cheer as Lotus started the upper edge by preforming a slash slash, lower kick, slash, supermove fifteen hit combo. Her maximum attack filled the screen with slashes and dashes, so fast for Lan's pixel body that he didn't react until after it was all over.  
  
Not falling for the same mistake, Lotus just waiting for Lan to get up. She sidestepped his power punch, and countered with another painful six hit combo. Lan got up once more, but this time he was left wide open to attack because of his dizzied state.  
  
Spiral decided this would be the decisive attack and, with another combo of slashes, kicks, and connectable special moves, it didn't take long for the KO to appear.  
  
Spiral laughed, this was it. He had let Rock win the first round to raise his spirit, but now it was time to strike that little false tower with his winning thunderbolt.  
  
The crowd almost facefaulted when the results registered in their group consciousness. This was the first time, *ever*, that someone fighting against Spiral could get one win. The battle had extended into a third round, and the "Final Round" was announced from the machine, probably for the first time when Spiral was at the controls.  
  
Both started out trading a kick. Lan managed to get in a combo, and finally got to try out his own supermove. It looked unimpressive enough, but at fifteen hits of punches, scratches, and bites, the damage was satisfactory for the time being. Lotus refused to take the attacks, and parried when Lan came in for another hit. This left him wide open for punishment, which, as was the usual Lotus-Spiral combo trademark, painful and very damaging.  
  
Before the timer managed to reach 40, the battle was over. Lan looked at the ground, pleadingly in his animated youth, and said "Tora, I have failed. Why?" Lotus saluted and disapeared in a puff of smoke.  
  
Had only Spiral been so honorable in victory. Instead, his gloat extended far beyond what was usually said and done in these situations. First it was a little victory wave, then a speech about his skills, and then he riled up the crowd to cheer even louder than before, chanting the same "Spiral, Spiral!" as before.  
  
They laughed the losers away from the arcade. Shingo fumed at those shameful disaplays of arrogance. Rock just placed his hands in his jocket and walked away, not as phased as his partner, and commented, "geez, what a jerk."  
  
  
  
"I'll cup of coffee," Shingo said. "Without no cream."  
  
So his English needed a little work, it wasn't so bad. People in these places weren't exactly articulate in their mother tongue anyway. The waitress understood what he meant, as the short haired girl nodded and wrote down the order. She then turned to Rock and just looked at him without any words.  
  
"Root beer for me," Rock said. He dug his arm in his pockets. He probably had enough to survive three meals a day for a week. But the occasional meal skipping wouldn't prove to be itoo/i ascetic, as he also had to find shelter in the meanwhile.  
  
The sunset painted the sky in various pink tone colors. Rock had his back to the window, but he saw Shingo's vision was fixed above him, looking almost admiringly at the sky. When the waitress left the older boy used the oppertunity to say, "ah, the evening sky. Isn't it beautiful?"  
  
Rock shrugged, "I suppose."  
  
"Oh hey, don't let this afternoon's defeat get you down," Shingo smiled. "A rematch will show whose the true victor once and for all!"  
  
"Hmmm? Oh," Rock said. "That doesn't bother me. I hate people who boast too much. But you know there's something more important to deal with now."  
  
Shingo scratched the back of his head, which was becoming almost trademark of him now. "Oh yeah, that's right. Them."  
  
"I don't really know where to start," Rock said. "If they get hold that two people have been stalking them at their usual place, they'll surely change their dealing spot."  
  
"We could always try to buy from them."  
  
"Yeah, right. First of all there's the problem of trying to contact them. And then, what? They probably already know me if I busted one of the deals. Those gangs are organized with their marked men, to avoid getting caught up by police informants."  
  
Shingo's eyes gleamed with determination, "then that means I'll have to go!"  
  
Rock laughed. "Hey, no offense but," he inspected his partner. Clean cut brown hair, yellow jumper and navy blue pants. "You're a bit too preppy. They'll catch on quickly."  
  
"Moh," Shingo tapped the table. "Those people are persistent. But there must be a way, this is for sure."  
  
"It is getting late," Rock looked behind him to see the sky turned black. The waitress dropped off their cups and left. "A plastic cup? I suppose that's their way of saying they want us to leave now."  
  
"Well, if that's the way," Shingo stood up. "I'll invite you to my hotel room for the drink. It's a bit small, but it'll fit!"  
  
"Hnnnh?"   
  
"Come on, call it a freindly favor. We could also talk when there's no ability for the suspicious people to listen in. Let's be on our way!"  
  
Before Rock could accept or decline (the answer most likely have been in the latter), Shingo already grabbed the cup and was on his way. Rock sighed, "well, okay then. Might as well."  
  
  
The hotel, actually motel, room was well kept. A rarity for such places. The luggage was in one corner, and everything was neatly folded inside. It was almost as if he was expecting visitors, unless it was perpetually that way.  
  
They sat on the floor and unwrapped their drinks. Fortunately the walk wasn't too far, and the weather not cold enough, that the coffee was still warm when Shingo took it in his hands.   
  
"Why are you helping, anyway?" Rock broke the temporary silence. He took a sip and continued. "I mean, it doesn't seem like you have any involvement in this. When they catch on to this little vigilante scheme, it will be dangerous. So,why?"  
  
Shingo crossed his arms. "Well, there is a selfish motive behind this. I'm ashamed to admit it but it's true. All my time I always aspired to be like Master Kusanagi. To be able to weild the flames like that is truly mastery. But...I've trained by his side, learned all the external form of the moves, but never managed to recreate the internal situations for them. Until that millenium tournament."  
  
He gulped down his drink and continued, "the heat of the battle was so intense! My blood was boiling during the final moments, when the truth of the tournament was revealed. While I may not have created any flames, the situation was fiery enough! I suppose I'm hoping that, like the phoenix, the ashes form the glorious victory will arise and burn once more."  
  
"I see," Rock said. He finished his drink.  
  
"So, what about you?"  
  
"Personal connections, you might say."  
  
"Heh," Shingo grinned. "After I beared all my true intentions to you all you say is 'personal connections'?"  
  
"I guess that's really all there is to it," Rock said. "I don't really know what's going to come out of it. But when I saw that the origin of this dealership I knew I had to find out more. Hopefully the answer will come by then."  
  
"So that's how it is," Shingo nodded. "And the origin of this criminal act is someone very important I take it?"  
  
"In a certain manner, he is." Rock grimaced. "It's really late now and I have to.."  
  
"Nonsense," Shingo said. "You'll stay here for the night!"  
  
What? "I really couldn't."  
  
"It's late. And this is in the spirit of our new freindship, it's a small offer, but it will have to do for now."  
  
"I gotta go back to..."  
  
"Where?" Shingo said, almost as if he had sensed the uncertainty of where Rock will spend the night.  
  
He sighed, "well then..."  
  
"You're staying here," he grinned wildly, another of his trademark moves. "You know how persistant I am. There will be no such thing as no!"  
  
"Well..." another sigh. "Okay, then."  
  
  
  
He looked up at the stars. The grouping of stars, which he read someplace was the stars of Gandymede, were the only thing visible from the outside window. The moon had either waned, or was on the other side. He never really paid attention to the sky's movements, having had only a passing curiosity with them when he was way, iway/i younger.  
  
Rock wondered how Terry reacted when he discovered that he had run away. Was he mad? indifferent? upset? or, Rock hoped beyond hope, did he understand this action?  
  
Tommorrow would be the start of plan B. They try to find the other names on the dealer's list. He still had half the list, which had, fortunately, stuck on his jacket pocket, and could make out one of the names. Someone he knew with a small aquaintance. The next day they'd go and have a little chat with the daughter of the grocer.  
  
"Have a good night, Rock!" Shingo said, he turned off the night lights.  
  
"Yeah," Rock trailed off.  
  
_______________  
  
Note: Yaoi fangirls, use your imaginations ^_~  
*gets thrown into orbit by Rock and Shingo*  
*PING* 


	4. Chapter 4

Terry gulped down the last remaining content of his beer can, drowning in the sights and sounds of the city bar. Being sandwhiched between two drunks didn't bother him. And it didn't stop a certain blonde bombshell from noticing him as she walked in.  
  
"Terry Bogard as I live and breathe," Blue Mary wedged herself between the guy beside him and gave Terry a slap on the back.   
  
He turned up and less enthusiastically said, "hey Mary."  
  
"So much for warm welcomes," she said. Placing an arm on the counter, she signalled her free arm to the bartender to order a drink.  
  
"Heh," he smiled. "You expect too much from a drunk."  
  
She arched an eyebrow, "drunk?" Her detective skills operated as she screened his surrounding enviroment. "You've just had one bottle," she concluded. "That's hardly the old alchohol resitant Bogard I know of."  
  
Mary's drink came to the counter. Terry snickered, "Caught me there."  
  
As she was about to take her first gulp, the man, whose face had been planted on the counter all the time, emerged his head like a hippopotomous coming out of the water. Slowly, with a grunt, a groan, the giant man in the blue business suit raised his mouth to the sky, and let out a giant, audible, burp, only to retire back to the counter top again.  
  
"Charming," Mary said. "There's a better seat over there, let's go."  
  
Free from any unusual distractions, and false pretences of drunkeness, the two found a more iscolated place. "How's it been going?" Mary broke the ice again.  
  
"You know," he said. "The usual stuff."  
  
"The Lone Wolf has yet to find a den, eh?"  
  
He smiled, "as if that'll ever happen. So,how're things on your side of the fence?"  
  
"Crime, drug dealers, conspiracies, arrests, shootings," she smiled. "Nothing new."  
  
"Yeah.."  
  
"There you go, being all distracted again," she touched her nose. "Something's bugging you. Like, say, a certain teenage boy of distinguished pedigree?"  
  
"You saw him?" He perked up.  
  
"The other day, walking around town with someone else, I thought that seemed suspicious," she said.  
  
"I just can't believe he'd pick up and run like that," Terry said. "Who in there right mind does that anymore?"  
  
"So much for not finding a den," Mary's response caught him by surprise. Instead of an understanding tone, she laughed.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Face it," she twirled her finger and winked. "You've become such a mother."  
  
He grimaced, half jokingly and half in geniune offense at that remark. "Hey, now cut that out."  
  
"He can take care of himself," she said. "You know that, you taught him after all. And yet you're still here, worried sick like he's forgotten his coat or wether he's wearing the right socks."  
  
Silence. She continued on, "we've had our chance in the day. Now it's their turn to write down a story for themselves."  
  
"Counting on retirement already?" He said, blinking.   
  
"Well, no," she grimanced. "Of course not. But it's just a test of manhood, or whatever you guys call it these days."  
  
"I s'pose," he looked at the cieling. "You might be right.  
  
But still..."  
  
  
  
  
"Mind if I smoke?" She lit up the cigarette as she said the words, obviously not expecting a reply, or caring if he would have said no. He'd grant him that, this was her house after all.  
  
They found the perfect time. Cristana, the only name he recognized from the half torn list, was alone at home for at least a few hours while her parents worked at the grocery store. He had seen her a few times, dressed up in experimental, and very outrageous, clothes (but still understated as to confuse the 'rents). When he entered, trying to think of ways to invite himself in and initiate conversation, it caught him off guard that she welcomed him warmly.  
  
"You came at the perfect time," smoke puffed out of her mouth as she spoke. Rock tried not to cough. She was curled up into a ball on the couch, dressed in pink nightgown and bunny slippers. One couldn't tell it was the same person he had seen in the stores were it not for the neon blue highlights in her blonde hair. "My mom would have a cow if she knew a guy was in here."  
  
Rock fidgeted nervously and looked at the ground after she finished saying that. Cristana probably detected that uncomfortableness. She kicked her legs in the air and laughed mockingly, which didn't releive anything one bit. "Oh don't worry," she said, still snickering a bit, "that's just usual mom stuff. You know how it is, yeah?"  
  
He flinched. "Well, not really."  
  
She went silent for an uncomfortable period of time. "Lucky."  
  
Hn. "Yea, maybe," he said. Best leave it at that and concentrate on the more important matter. Shingo was around town, he claimed he'd be inspecting but Rock suspected he'd be sightseeing the place a bit. "Well, hey..."  
  
"You know what?" She interupted. Getting off from her seat and walking towards the window. "It's too stuffy in here, isn't it? We must be the only house in the block to be this freaking hot. I keep telling my 'rents to get a fucking air conditioner, but do they ever listen to me? Of course not. Really, mom and dad, when you live in this area you can't afford *not* to get an airconditioner. Am I right or what?"  
  
"It is a...bit hot in here."  
  
That catty smile of hers made him tense up. "A bit hot? You seem like someone who'd be able to handle the heat." She approached, at an uncomfortably short distance, and intensified the smile. "Of course, we could always slip you into something more comfortable."  
  
"I'm fine." Outwardly, he smiled. But inwardly, he concluded this was the worst situation to be caught in.  
  
She shrugged and walked off. "You think I should have spikes?"  
  
"What?"  
  
She rubbed her head. "Y'know, nothing too extreme, just so the highlights can stick out from the rest. I'm bored with the current hair style, too normal, and you seem like someone who'd know about these things."  
  
She continued talking like they were familiar friends. Rock wondered idly wether that cigarette she had smoked was really -just- a cigarette. She continued chatting up a storm about every topic under the sun, except the one he had come for. And any time he tried to open his mouth to change the subject, she interupted.  
  
It was no secret that he was not used to being around girls. He had grown up around mostly men, and interactions with women were very rare. So of course this made him a bit uncomfortable. A bit uncomfortable, however, didn't describe the Cristana situation. Being so casual and self assured around someone who was just a level above stranger was a downright intimidating.   
  
He lost track of what she was saying, but she didn't seem to notice that. The girl didn't even seem to notice how he was unconsciously looking at the clock on the wall every few seconds for the past five minutes. When he came back to reality and managed to catch her train of words, he found a fine opening for the call. She had been talking something about nightclubs, and how they were too tame in the area.  
  
"Tame is right," he feigned. "All the stupid regulations really cramp my style."  
  
"Oh hey," she giggled. "You can't be that much older than me. How d'you get in?"  
  
"Same way you do."  
  
A laugh. "And here I thought you were just some boring goody two shoes. A good looking one, but still boring. You surprise me...umm...I'm emberassed, here I haven't even gotten your name."  
  
"Rock."  
  
"I bet," she smiled in that intimidating way again. "Well, there is this one place that lets you go as wild as you want. No holds barred. It's naturally not open everyday, so as to like, arouse any suspicion or anything, but when you can get in it's perfect."  
  
He felt he was getting closer. "Oh?"  
  
She tapped her lips. "It's a secret."  
  
"Is it?"  
  
"Yep," she beamed. "So I know something you don't know, and that rot. Invite only. Meaning the only way you can get in is through moi."  
  
"I see. But still," he went for the kill. "They probably don't have what I want from a club. Something to give more colors to the atmosphere of the place."  
  
She nodded, and winked. "You assume too much. Of course they have *that*. I was beginning to think you were talking about murdering people. Which, by the by, might be allowed come next month anyway."  
  
"So there is?"  
  
"Naturally. That's where I get my own stash."  
  
Got it. He nodded.  
  
"So then I'll see you tonight?" Another tangent that caught him off guard. Without thinking about it he nodded again, and she giggled happily and gave him a piece of paper. "Here's the address. For this time anyway. And you can't tell this to anyone, you do know that. Not a soul. Seriously, not a single soul."  
  
"Right."  
  
  
  
"So WHERE is it again?"  
  
"Keep it down," Rock said. "Don't want everyone to know."  
  
Their voices were fortunately enough drowned out to the rest of the people by the construction worker's jack hammer. Shingo penetrated the paper with his gaze, as if there were some complex code behind it, or maybe just an attempt to determine the exact location of the address.   
  
"Going there tonight," Rock continued. "Before it changes location."  
  
"Ah yes, those villains are slitherly like snakes. We must catch them tonight before it's too late."  
  
"We?" He said. "No, not we. The place is invite only, and I got invited. You'll have to find another way."  
  
Shingo stomped his left foot. "No problem! That sounds like a challenge, and an intruiging one at that. Wait a sec...."  
  
He turned to Rock with a mischevious grin, "you got *invited*?"  
  
The blond boy rolled his eyes. "Oh cut it out."  
  
"Only one thing."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You can't get in!" Shingo said.  
  
"What are you talking..." He had told Cristina he had a fake ID to get her to talk more, but it dawned upon him that he didn't have one with him. "Oh." 


	5. Chapter 5

Placed between a construction site and slum-like buildings and alleyways, the only beacon of neon light in the darkest part of town, it seemed like the worst place ever to have a nightclub in. Which reinforced Christina's comment about them allowing murders next month; After seeing three consecutive Iori Yagami look alikes with switchblades in their hands, that didn't seem like it was a joke.  
  
It might have seemed silly to the casual observer, and, OK, maybe it was. Chasing all around town, betraying the confidence of his most trusted friend, and entering (as a minor too) a notorious club to attempt to buy some drugs. And all of this, to top it off, on a piece of paper and a hunch.  
  
"Rock...pssst...Rock!" Even when Shingo tried to whisper his voice came out imposing. Only a voice, though, since he was hidden behind one of the steel pillars of the half-finished building.   
  
"What?" A hushed, yet snappy, reply.  
  
"I still haven't found a way in!"  
  
  
"That's not really my problem," Rock said. He had never been this rude before to anyone, and Shingo still didn't seem to get it. From where he was, he could see the entire Second South like it was a distant town. This area was what remained of the first Southtown after that fated explosion, but no one seemed to have bothered to even fix anything, especially the electricity, here.   
  
This really was the darkest pit.  
  
"Oh Rock, honey!" The melodious voice of the Cristina beckoned him from the entrance. "Come on, let's go already."  
  
"Pssst..."  
  
"What now?" Rock rolled his eyes.  
  
"Are you OK?" Shingo said.  
  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You seem to be...sweating."  
  
He looked at his 'date', totally unwilling from his part, rushing towards him and his throat did clench. Normally when someone approached him like that he'd get ready for a counter move, but no move could ever prepare him sufficiently for this.  
  
"Come on!" He yelped as she slithered her arm around his. Exposed arm, no less. She was dressed in a purple fluffy dress, something resembling the old gothic clothes, with the sleeves and area around the stomach cut off, and leather mini skirt. Everytime she tried to get too close with her body he squirmed away, but she didn't seem to notice.  
  
"You'll be fine, really," she said. He couldn't muster the strenght to say a word. "I'm sure the guys'll accept you.  
  
"Hey," she froze dead in her tracks as if she had just remembered something. "Oh, right, do you know how to fight?"  
  
"No.." Biggest Lie Ever award would go to him.  
  
"I coulda sworn you could," she looked sullen. "I guess they're just for show and not for use, huh? No problem, there's a lot of wanna bes who're all talk and no action. Just stand there and look intimidating, I'm sure you could do it, and no one will bother you. You're with -me-, remember that."  
  
"Oh, and," in one unavoiadable swoop, she traced her palm across his chest till his shoulders, and flicked away his jacket like one would flick away a fly. "There, now you look much bettter."  
  
He looked back, at the fallen red material. "But..."  
  
"We'll get it later," she said as she locked him in a tight hug. "Loose the puppy dog cornered look. It might be cute outside, but it'll look totally wrong here."  
  
Chasing all around town, betraying the confidence of his most trusted friend, and entering a notorious club to attempt to buy some drugs. And this, Rock felt, was his punishment for doing all these things.  
  
  
  
After the long tunnel connecting the entrance to the main club, it was hard to believe they were still in the same area. What was a run down and gray washed stone structure from the outside was actually a house for some of the most luxuriously decorated places he'd seen before. The floors were polished black marble, with white for the bar counter. Stools were provided with velvet coushins, standing opposite to an entire area with nothing but velvet coushins (with a guy attempting a menage a trois on them). The entire wall was filled with red and gold dragon-patterned tapestry. On the other side of it all was a string bead curtain with two body guards at opposite ends. Rock took note of that last detail.  
  
He sat down at the stool, pretending to drink what Cristina ordered him. It was more than a little uncomforting. With the mental map of his younger memory, this place seemed all too familiar to him. Place Where Dad Used to Settle His Shady Business type of familiar. His heart started to beat shallower as he stared into that guarded entrance. The entrance that, for all he knew, could contain the source of his fears.  
  
Cristina came back with a few people around her. They had their backs turned to him, but from the back, he could see the style ranged from the thug look to the psychopath look. And they probably followed their roles too.   
  
Standing next to her, with his hands on her hips, was the guy Rock recognized from the arcade the last time. Smiling smugly like he did back then. All the other circled around the happy couple there. Rising his hand to the air, like a politician to the crowd, the Spiral guy announced, "any of you losers want to try your luck tonight?"  
  
Far from being offended at his arrogance, the group cheered and laughed, as if there was a joke Rock hadn't caught on, and one of them stepped up. Both he and Spiral looked similar, neon dyed hair over one eye, and leather clothing. If it weren't for the different choice of dye color it would've been nearly impossible to tell the difference.  
  
The fight itself was far from being the hardcore level Rock was used to see Terry participate in, but still seemed painful enough. After delivering three punches to the stomach, dodging a kick, and grabbing the opponent's hair, he finished it off with a knee to the face. The opponent was bleeding majorly by now, but the crowd seemed to be only cheering. Rock could've sworn the fallen fighter was laughing too.  
  
Another of them broke the circle and approached Cristina with a wink. "Say, do you know how to fight as impressively as your boyfriend here..."  
  
"What an old pick up line," she giggled. "You know I'm not his girlfriend, and no, that doesn't mean you can try too."  
  
As if on cue, they laughed.  
  
"Fighting, huh?" She winked. "I only know two things: kick straight-"  
  
She crouched, using the floor as a spring board to devlier her kick. "- and high."  
  
The cheers and whistles grew wilder with that final attack which threw back a few feet at least. She smiled innocently. Both she and Spiral then came to sit down.   
  
  
  
  
The man, tall, bulky, bald, your usual brute in open denim jacket, grunted and inspected him. "Don't recognize you," he said gruffly. "Got an invitation?"  
  
Shingo scratched his head. "Well, inside you see."  
  
The body guard grimaced. "Sure, I've heard that one a million times. Go home, kid."  
  
He could hear the music from outside, and the light at the end of the entrance tunnel called him to what could be another great battle to prove himself a hero. Now he just needed a way to get in.  
  
Heels dug firmly on the ground, much to the irritation of the line behind him, Shingo tried once again. "Don't you know who I am?!"  
  
"Would you try something -original-?" The brute leaned down. "Humph, the least you could do is pretend to look the part."  
  
Shingo looked down at his blue and white attire, perfectly well. "Didn't you see the couple entering here? I'm with them!"  
  
"Tough." He crossed his arms.  
  
"Moh," he had just about enough of this. The problem was quite easily handled, without the mess of having to negociate over and over. Just one quick punch knocked the body guard cold.   
  
  
Loud music, screaming Cristina, Spiral laughing loudly, but the strongest voice, almost defeaning, was "what if" screaming in Rock's ears. He hadn't stopped staring at the beaded curtain, which might as well have been the portals to hell. His mind was screaming: what if...this was it. If Geese, or the imposter, was behind these curtains. And he could be face to face with him soon enough.  
  
"Something wrong, hun?" She placed her hand on his, which he pulled away quickly.  
  
"Huh, no."  
  
"Pretty, isn't it?" She said.  
  
"Uh-huh..."  
  
"Just wait till you see the inside, absolutely amazing."  
  
"You mean...?"  
  
"Yep!" She beamed. "But only at the end of the night. Want to be fully in control when the competition starts."  
  
"Competition...?" Still staring at the doors.  
  
"Don't bother with that detail," Spiral said smugly. "You'll only be humiliated if you try to go up against me."  
  
"Sure, whatever, pal." He had just about enough of that jerk's attitude.  
  
"Don't let it bother you," Cristina said. "It's just his nature, you understand, right? Birds chirp, dogs bark, and Spiral overcompensates. It's the laws of nature."  
  
A crackle of loud sound wave silenced everyone. An announcer called up for this mysterious competiton everyone talked about. Spiral, not without lot's of loud encouragement from Cristina (and probably half the place), headed for the stage and grabbed the guitar there. Loud music started playing, and the guy played along with near perfect tune to the beginning of the song Lightning Kiss. Another guy went up stage and timidly grabbed the guitar.  
  
The song played on, both went against each other to follow the tune. It wasn't an easy one, as the middle part had an especially expert-style solo. Sure enough, the other lost. Red and face to the ground, he was laughed and cheered off stage by encouragement from good ol' Spiral. Just like in the arcade.  
  
Rock really started to hate that guy. The neon lights got blinding in their flashing blue hues. Dried ice filled the stage. All these distractions could prove enough to go one key off tune, or miss a beat.  
  
"And that's yeeet another win!" The announcer said. "Will anyone be stupid enough, without any sense of shame, who'll try to challenge the great one?"  
  
Great one? In a sense, he wasn't surprised. But that was it. The arcade was an entierly different situation. But this was his turf.  
  
The loud sound of the mob erupted once more as he passed on stage. But he made a rule to ignore it. Only the music would be important now. "Let's make this tough," Spiral, from the other side of the stage, smiled and signalled something to the top.  
  
It was an unfamiliar song. The prelude had a pretty standered beat. Everything drowned out except for his hands on the strings, and his ear on the rhythm. He closed his eyes, followed the first few beat, and smiled. "Let's begin."  
  
  
  
"Roooooooock?! Roooooooooooooock!!!"  
  
You knew music was loud when his voice could get drowned out. He navigated around the crowd of dancing people, barely able to see with all the flashing lights. It was almost as bad as a NEST's base about to explode.   
  
Except they were less crowded.  
  
He saw a special entrance guarded by bodyguards. That had to be their target. But first he had to find his partner.  
  
The roar of guitar caught him off guard. A tone higher than the others. He looked up and sighed in exasperation. On the stage, fighting against the same person who was at the arcade the other day, using musical instruments, of all things, as their choise of weapon. They were both matched up, with only a margin open for any of them to gain advantage over the other. A large number of people were drawn them.  
  
Good for him, Shingo thought, but here he was struggling to get to the root of the wrong doers, and Rock was having a nice leisurly play all this time.  
  
  
  
  
  
It hadn't been long since he could afford to get himself a real guitar. But ever since he could remember he'd play air guitar to whatever tune he could hear. Before long it became like second nature. Some people fidget without noticing, but Rock would sometimes catch himself playing along to a beat without conscious notice.  
  
So it was natural that this would be to his advantage. To Spiral's credit (unlike some people, extreme public humiliation was not his job. People could do it themselves without help), he could catch up. But Rock heard a slightly off key, so subtle most save the closest people could notice it. Soon enough, that gap turned bigger, in an attempt to catch up rather than play at his pace, and turned into an all out fumble.  
  
The long haired man dropped his guitar, causing an awful screech to ripple through the speakers. His eyes, devestated. A strike to the ego just couldn't be handled. He froze, literally, as if unable to move.  
  
A silent awe filled the hall. A hesitant clap. Another, untill the entire room roared.   
  
Rock placed the guitar on the floor and smiled. That took care of that.  
  
"Aaaayeeeeee!"  
  
"That's so greaaat!"  
  
"And he's cute tooooo!!!"  
  
Before he new it, much to his dread, a swarm of girls stampeded towards the stage. Without any place to run away, he whimpered nonsensical strings of syllables, before breaking out in a sweet. Now he was paralyzed too.  
  
"C'mon," someone pulled him by the arm. He never expected that he could actually be glad to see her. "It's our turn."  
  
With the anxiety, the screech still echoing from the loudspeakers, and the horde of girls, Rock felt like he could be getting sick really soon.  
  
  
Shingo turned around, after almost being run over by a stampede of fangirls, trying to regain his balance and find out where his partner disappeared to. He found him, entering with that girl, passing by the bodyguards and into the mouth of the enemy.  
  
Shingo straightened his gloves and smiled. This would be it.  
  
  
  
  
Smoke twirled around the four corners of the room, giving a strange incense aroma to the place. Which fitted the red cushoin, gold countor atmosphere well. There were eight guards surrounding the palce. They meant business.  
  
"Is it always this dramatic?" He said.  
  
"Nah," she whispered. "But apparently the boss himself is here tonight. Exciting, huh? I wonder if he's part of the mafia."  
  
"You mean no one's seen him?"  
  
"I never asked," she shrugged. "Rumor has it that he visits once in a while. So I thought, why spoil the surprise? Heh, listen to me, surprise. As if some mega crime lord runs this cruddy place."  
  
He found himself joining her in the giggle. It did seem really silly put that way. But put another way, as in, having an entire circle of bodyguard accompanying the 'boss', face conveniently concealed, this could be something big.  
  
This was it.  
  
"I suppose you're enjoying yourselves in our little...establishment."  
  
"Who wouldn't?" Cristina chirped.  
  
"Good," he said. The voice was definately familiar. But his memory of so long ago was very vague and, more importantly, very selective. "We always aim to please."  
  
"Excuse me..." Patience could only go so far. Rock took a few steps forward, arm outstretched, to the boss. Naturally, the bodyguards reacted quickly by gripping him.  
  
The man, still concealed, laughed. "Do not be so impatient, boy. This pilgramage to the past is still in it's early stages."  
  
The words shot through him like electricity. "What the...?" Cristina's voice was silenced by groans from the outside. The two bodyguards came flying through the bead curtains, and in came Shingo, bursting forth like an action hero.  
  
"Stop!" He said. "Aaaaah, we've finally caught you!! Now, the flames of justice will make sure to purify all that is wrong!"  
  
The man didn't laugh, from behind the protective wall, one could almost feel the seething. "Kill them."  
  
"No...!"  
  
The boss, who by all means could have been Geese Howard now, exited through the back door. Rock pushed through the guards, but it was too late by then. He knocked them down, joining up with Shingo. The third person had disappeared by now.  
  
Outside, they heard a shrill cry, "FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!!!!"  
  
  
Three guards confronted them as they passed through the curtains. Both judged their punches, and landed a punch of their own. The third experienced a kick from the two fighters.  
  
But the toughest part was to get through the chaos surrounding the bar. Dust unsettled from everywhere, and there wasn't one person left who didn't enter the group battle that was going on.  
  
Rock was about to move.  
  
"Rock," Shingo said.  
  
"Again...!"  
  
"Don't," he said. "Don't hurt them. Or not too much."  
  
He Noded.  
  
Dodging people who wanted to fight with the closest people available was no easy task. Navigating through it, avoding the stray punch of kicks, was practically impossible. Rock tried to softly counter, Shingo tried to dodge, but by the end they were both bleeding one place or another.  
  
The sound of breaking glass rang through Rock's ears. From the counter, a girl with a brocken bottle in her hand charged at him with full speed. Murders being legal in a month, huh? He melted back into the fighting crowd, rolling once, twice, against the barrage of punches and kicks.  
  
Shingo shook his head. This was like seeing an animal stampede. He had to physically restrain himself from letting his instincts take fight and strike back any of the innocent (Innocent? Didn't seem like it now) people. Which was a gigantic task, when assulted by elbow strikes and shoulder dashes. He might've struck one or two people in the furious chaos, but everything was too much of a daze to remember.  
  
A great fighter needs composure, to be able to stay true to his mind in whatever situations. The fact that he had lost it made frustrated him.  
  
They looked back, seeing the entire fight from a relatively safe standpoint. The tunnel to the exit just in front of them. Rock punched the wall. "Damnit..so close."  
  
"Whaaat?" Shingo cried out, barely audible from all the noise. "You're not giving up already!"  
  
"Let's face it," he said. "We lost."  
  
"That's crazy talk," Shingo shook a fist. "We can go back and..."  
  
"Stop that," he shouted. "It's over, done with. A stupid idea, and none of your business. Okay?"  
  
Before Shingo could reply, he found himself on the floor. At the entrance of the tunnel was the not-so-dynamic duo, Cristina and Spiral.  
  
She delivered another kick towards Rock, he stepped back. "What's the matter?" She said, smiling cherubically, "you're the one who started it. And you said you couldn't fight, too. Ain't having fun?"  
  
She launched in the air with another kick. He dodged again, not wanting to deliver any blows. Spiral twisted his body and tried to deliver a punch. It was countered, but Cristina's axe kick managed to connect.  
  
Shingo took a few steps back. The aggressive team up also managed to catch him offguard. Both Shingo and Rock backed up into the corner. The female fighter-to-be delivered another high kick, missing ROck's face by an inch. Which was her intention. With a smile she said, "nothing personal, y'know."  
  
Another high kick, this time fully entended to connect, was delivered. "I'm sure it isn't," Rock said, and ducked the incoming attack. Cristina took a few hops back, not noticing that her opponent was now standing behind her.  
  
He stealthily moved forward, trying to restrain her with minimum damage. She stood silently, seemingly unsuspecting of his approach. Just as he was about to grab her, she delivered an elbow to his stomach. The surprise, rather than any pain, caught him off guard.   
  
Shingo didn't fare any better. Spiral's attacks were more aggressive. His punches forced Shingo to take steps back, and they kept getting more and more relentless. When one did connect, the long haired fighter took steps back. He then charged like a torpedo at Shingo, delivering a flip kick once he reached the target. Shingo blocked. But, like Rock after being backed by Cristina's kicks, was trapped into a corner.  
  
They looked to each other and nodded. Spiral and Cristina got ready for a jump kick. Shingo dodged her attack, having her hit the wall and lose balance. While Rock dodged, pushed Spiral, who landed on top of Cristina. Without a moment's hesitation, the two fighters left.  
  
  
Outside, the silence of the night was incompattible with the chaos inside. The knocked out bouncer was no where to be seen. In this silence, a peircing shreik broke the calm, followed by a megaphone. Only assailing red flashes color was to be seen, and cries of "you're under arrest!" filled the place.  
  
  
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Notes: A nightclub chapter. Because every FatalFury/King of Fighters fanfic has a nightclub chapter!  
  
*phew* I'm sorry if this seems a bit fragmented. The chapter was written in the beginning, during, and the end of a block. There's two (or three, depending) chapters left now, and hopefully they'll take less time than this did. Thank you for the feedback, it was really motivating to finish the chapter ^_^ 


	6. Chapter 6

They say that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. That the family, father especially, never leaves you. Never. They say you are bound by your family name, and all that it comes with it. Forever connected. Psychologically, psychically, karmically, genetically. It always went back to the father.  
  
That wasn't true, though. When Geese did something, he had the common knowhow to not get into trouble.  
  
Rock stared at the grey washed, fading walls and rust bars, and sighed. He had like, majorly screwed up here.  
  
  
  
"You're under arrest!"  
  
Outside, the silence of the night was incompattible with the chaos inside. The knocked out bouncer was no where to be seen. In this silence, a peircing shreik broke the calm, and a voice through a megaphone followed shortly after. Only assailing red flashes color was to be seen, and cries of "you're under arrest!" filled the place.  
  
Both were disoriented. Shingo looked at him pleadingly, unsure as to wether give up or let his fighting instincts prevail. Rock noticed that his feet were kicking up dust on the floor as well.  
  
"What do you do now?!" Shingo managed to say, reverting back to a heavy accent. He wished he could reply with a reassurance, a snappy reply, or just with any word possible. But all Rock could say was, "I don't know."  
  
Shingo continued, "should we run away?" Staring at the squad cars, the doors now opening. "should we-"  
  
"Stop right there," the police men lurched above Rock and grabbed him by the shoulder, pushing the kid to the policecar. Rock knees twitched. He tightened his ligaments to avoid his natural tendency to kick his captor. It was bad enough he was arrested and handcuffed right now, he didn't need to have police assult on the record as well. His companion was taken to the other car. He saw Shingo, wide eyed with panic blurting out Japanese phrases, disapear underneath the hood and into the car, his head pushed in by the cops.  
  
He didn't see him afterwards.  
  
It took less than a few hours before the rest of the club goers started piling up at the station. Most were shocked, half acting, half because their stoned-state wore off, and trying to bargain their way out of the inevetable. And then came the testimonial. Christina feigned ignorance, "Oh my, I don't know what happened, but these mean people did...."..sort of way. Spiral didn't have much luck. But the fact that Rock was the least bruised person in the place, along with the fact he was still reeking from the incense of that room, didn't fare well for his case at all.  
  
  
  
His internal conflict had been raging on since the beginning. By now it tore him apart, and, in the midst of the moist prison cell, he had finally come to a unanimous conclusion.   
  
This was a stupid idea.  
  
This was a very stupid idea.  
  
It struck him as irony that all the years before this date he had worked so hard, with more than a small degree of success, in completely obliterating traces of his lineage. The first mention of his family name sent him on a wild goose chase around town. He hadn't obliterated anything, just ran away.  
  
Terry. He was his pillar of support since the beginning. When Rock had arrived in the place, and saw his father was no where to be seen. He had truly lost all his family on that day, that day when all that remained of his 'great' father was a stain of blood on the pavement.  
  
He lost the Howard family, but gained the Bogard.  
  
Yeah, he still remembered that day. Down on his luck, not even ten years old but forced to wander some of the most dangerous streets in the world by himself. Then, one day after so many string of miserable days, he saw it on the harbor.  
  
The fight. Terry and another opponent were going at it. Rock had been witness to many battles, but this was unlike one he had seen before. Everything was done so gracefully, with good sportsmanship from both sides. It wasn't blood sport, but freindly competition. The seagulls in the air, the salt smell and sea breeze. In the full light of the afternoon a small crowd gathered to cheer their afternoon entertainment.  
  
They spent a lot of time together. Terry had come to him in the alleyway one day, like Jizo with a red cap, and challenged him to a game of baketball. Nothing unusual. This man in red had come a lot for the various street rats. But they spent a lot of time together. Moreso than the others. They went fishing outside of town, undistracted by anything save the tug of war with very stubborn fishes. They played basketball in the alleyways where the afternoons would fly by. But what he remembered the most were the nights, which sometimes felt eternal.  
  
That night by the hill was something he never forgot. How does one forget ones death and rebirth? The exact dialogue was lost to memory. He remembered saying something childish and naive about the past and the stars in the sky. Terry, in unusual moment of candidness, told Rock about his entire past history and affairs with the Howard family. Rock choked at the mention of the name. He kept his distant shell at first, but that quickly crumbled. Maybe it was the atmosphere, maybe it was the fact Terry was completely willing to let things in the open, but Rock, with tears in eyes, told his story for the first time to anyone.  
  
That night he managed to sleep comfortably for the first time in a long time. He knew, for once, that there was someone close to him watching over him.  
  
So the lone wolf now had a cub. Terry's friends kept joking at how Rock managed to 'domesticate' the wolf. It was a sign of growing up, sure, but there were little irresponsible habits that Terry abandoned with the help of Rock. And Rock, of course, was riding everything like a giant tidal wave. The air of freedom, not the stagnation of uncertainty, he breathed every day. He cheered Terry on every King of Fighters. He started practicing the moment he could lift a weight. And, as growing up, everything was just simply cool. That's how the story goes, anyway.  
  
If anything, fighting for him was a repression of skills. Yeah, that sounded weird. Very weird. But if a person is forced to have a gun with him all the time he would do much less damage knowing how to use it. Rock wasn't a fatalist, but he was realistic in acknowledging the shadow of his heritage would never leave him. Sins of the father, we all want to deny it, but pragmatically? He had to accept that, no matter how small that voice was. Little kids felt sad that their skin, eye or hair color was different than the others in class. Rock felt sad that his entire being was different than the others around him.  
  
And small voices are unbeleivably loud when you're alone in a cell. They're the only thing that can keep you company. Like a friend who completely rips you apart mentally for the sake of "being honest" and "for your own good".   
  
Actually, had that voice appeared sooner, things could've been better. Things could've been avoided. Bye bye Second South, hello whatever new town Terry was in right now. With a hint of smile, he also wondered how Terry would manage not having a personal chef for him. Rock had learned cooking out of survival instinct. Following Terry's sloppy culinary habits was the shortest path to an early grave (died when his tongue finally decided to revolt against what it's being put through).  
  
But then thoughts came crashing back in the gray-washed room, and he wondered what would be his fate for now.  
  
________________  
  
  
  
  
  
Seconds. Minutes. Hours. It was 14:00, the clock outside the cell told him. He kept track of time to keep himself sane at first, but now it just seemed to make him even more tense. It had been a lot more than twelve hours. No one had come for him or anything, just like they'd abandoned him in jail and completely forgot. He wondered if Shingo was let free by now.  
  
Balancing his weight on the tip of the bench, his feet scrapped the floor a few times. He digged deep in his pockets, absent mindedly doing whatever to keep his body from going numb. Something felt rough on his fingers and crunched as he squeezed it. He took out that damn piece of paper, the initials that made him do that stupid thing anyway.  
  
His mind played a little game. He pushed his back to the wall and slumped, trying to conjure up a perfect image of the scene. Maybe now in meditative solitude he could find more clarity than the confusion of the moment. Yes, the place. A cheesy looking arena filled with red and smoke. And the chair, very much official looking, with the person next to it...  
  
The voice, yes, he heard the voice before. Come on, think think think think, Rock grit his teeth. The voice was very very familiar. Like a half remembered dream with the solution at the tip of the toungue.   
  
Sliding doors opened just as he blurted out the answer.  
  
The cop motioned at him to leave. Rock's heart raced. He was more afraid of what was at the end of that hallway, waiting for him outside. Terry Bogard, without a hint of anger in his face (though Rock wouldn't be fooled by appearences) whispered into his ear, "Welcome back."  
  
His voice sank. What could he say to the person he'd majorly screwed over for selfish reasons. The office fan kept on whining. Things were so silent he felt the need to blurt something out just for the sake of making noise.  
  
"Terry....I..."  
  
"I know."  
  
The fan continued to click while Rock tried to find the proper words.   
  
"I gotta see this through."  
  
He stepped back. Waiting for the judge-jury-excecutioner to smite him for his stupidity. The office seemed much smaller now. All rested on Terry's next words.  
  
"I said I know, kiddo." Terry smiled, giving him a thumbs up. "But someone had to open the doors for you, right?"  
  
He smirked. "Thanks....."  
  
  
  
  
  
Cobalt blue rubble and dust as far as the eye could see. The ruin of Southtown, where this whole thing started, and where, damnit, he would end it here and now. It wasn't easy at first, the ruin seemed to be the same thing over and over.  
  
The shadow marked the spot. His obsession, the form and voice which he saw in the room the other night, was standing there, staring into the sky. The outline was still vague, but at least he was identifiable, and had no way to escape.  
  
Billy Cane turned to Rock and said, "I was wonderin' when you'd show up."   
  
  
  
  
  
  
_____________  
  
Note: I feel terrible for neglecting this. I really do. I wish I had an excuse but....there's none. I'm just lazy. And the chapter's so much shorter than I hoped it'd be. Anyway, the next chapter is the last, expect little author rant then (oh as if anyone reads these things =P) 


	7. Chapter 7

Protoge Chapter 7  
  
After weeks of wandering around in desert wastelands and empty roads, this place was a treat. Rock stretched on the ground, letting the soft grass tickle his back, and yawned. Terry went to park their ride someplace safe, and then returned and joined the kid in lazy cloud watching.  
  
Things couldn't get much better than this. Nothing to do, nowhere to be. All he had to do was see a place that looked interesting, and there they were. Days like these you wish would go on forever.  
  
"Yo Terry." he said.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"We should come to these places more often." Rock said with a wide grin. Everything was just so fresh, like things had just been born a few seconds earlier, just waiting for them.  
  
Laugh. "You're in such a rush to be somewhere you already are."  
  
"Hahaha, I guess that was kinda silly put it that way."  
  
But at thirteen, it made perfect sense that you'd want to be someplace, even if you were already there. It was the longing that made things more magical. Without wanting something, that thing could be as normal and valueless like a soil or rock. But by attaching some longing, or sweet memories, even a rock could be something great.  
  
At twelve, it wasn't that easy to put in thoughts. Rock shifted, getting so restless he almost bumped into his companion. "Wow..I'm already bored.."  
  
"Man, you'd think after a whole day of wandering you'd go right to sleep," Terry said. He was almost in despair.  
  
"It can't be helped," he said up. "I have way too much energy and I don't know what to do with it. I want to be someplace, but I don't know where. I want to do something, but I have no idea what that thing is. It's like something inside of me just wants to jump outside of me and just run away."  
  
All he said was "Breathe."  
  
"Uhh..."  
  
Terry smiled. "Try it, just close your eyes and breath."  
  
"Well..all right, but I don't know what that has to do with anything.."  
  
He closed his eyes and then giggled when he realized that he was already breathing. That was a silly request, asking to do something he was already doing! Rock wondered exactly what was Terry trying to pull over him. In turn, more absurd thoughts came to him, like what if Terry was planning to run away right there when he had his eyes closed.  
  
That did it though, after such ideas came to mind, he finally noticed something. He heard himself breath. He felt the cool air enter his nostrils. Soon he felt the subtle breeze sway him in ways he didn't notice before, and even the blood rushing inside of him.  
  
"Awesome!" He yelled out loud.  
  
  
  
Terry was sitting serenly, gazing out into apparent nothingness. "I was almost twice your age when I learned to do that. Had I known that technique sooner things would've been so much easier. " He smiled. "Ah! Things are so strange now that I'm riding with two people. I think it's about time 'The lone wolf' now has a cub."  
  
Rock tilted his head. "What do you mean?"  
  
The sun was setting. Things were painted in golden hues and the lights were so soft boundries between things were almost impossible to distinguish. Terry took off his cap and placed it on Rock's head. "There's a reason you're so restless. Fighting is part of you and probably always will be. I guess it's time I taught you to channel that energy well."  
  
The kid couldn't believe his ears. Whatever "it" was he wanted to find, he felt that "it" was closer in reach than ever before. They retired for the night, and Rock used the same technique as earlier.  
  
He breathed.  
  
Breathe.  
  
Breathe.  
  
And he continued breathing as his face was knocked straight to the ground.  
  
"Come back to reality, will ya?" Billy Cane taunted. The fight had begun without much time to asses anything. Geese Howard's former assistant used his trademark stick to trip the unsuspecting Rock to the ground, and then pointed the weapon to his neck. "I'm not here to fight."  
  
"Geez, you certainly don't give that impression!" He grunted.  
  
"I just needed to catch your attention, see?" As a gesture of good faith he removed the weapon away from Rock's neck, but still kept it in a defensive position. "You ain't like your father at all. Mr. Howard would've countered that a mile away."  
  
"I'm not my father," Rock spat.  
  
"But you could be," he cracked a mischevious grin.   
  
Rock Howard got up and gritted, bearing the pain of hitting broken and heat-intensified asphault. That was a clever method, Rock thought, a small attack to make sure he couldn't strike quick. "In your dreams pal."  
  
"You're quite right." He said. "It is my dream, and has been my ambition for a while. You don't think the Howard Empire would let it's heir off that easily, did you?"  
  
"What are you saying?" Rock asked.  
  
Billy Cane shook his head. "Unbeleivable. Any good Empire doesn't die just because the Emperor did. The Howard Empire is no exception. We still exist, those loyal to your father, and were waiting for his son to be fit enough to lead us."  
  
He continued. "The fact that you should pick up on the drug trafficing was no accident. It was all planned, to see if you're mentally and physically capable. I knocked you down so easily, maybe you aren't after all."  
  
"Moron," Rock spat. "I won't...refuse to see something like that happen. Who the hell are you, coming and asking such a fucking request from me? I won't do it!"  
  
A blunt pain came over Rock's abdomen. Billy's face was closer than before, giving a preadatory smile as his knee was burried deeper in Rock's stomach.  
  
Billy Cane stood over the fallen Rock.  
  
"Who said anything about a request?"  
  
So that's how it was gonna be. Rock stood up, still feeling the pain. He never remembered a fight being this painful, especially after the first hit. He studied his opponent, who was in a ready position with his stick.  
  
Rock came in with a flying kick. Cane knicked him out midair with his stick. Rock rolled away and retorted with a burning knuckle. He gave a swift knee kick and swung in for a punch. Billy countered the last move with a punch of his own, knocking both opponents down.  
  
With more experience Billy Cane stood first, using his stick for leverage, he came in for a kick that knocked the kid off the ground just as he had come up. Noticing the half torn down wall behind the kid, Billy Cane grinned again and knocked Rock with a clean roundhouse.  
  
After being thrown to the wall by the force of the hit, Rock had realized something. This was the first time Rock had gone over an opponent of serious force.  
  
This was it, the real stuff. No more brawls with tough guys whose mouths were stronger than their fists. Up till now, Rock had never really felt what a fight was. The blows, the opponents who posed a worthy challenge, an actual battle that was more than just scare tactics and a few fancy moves.  
  
And it hurt.  
  
While blocking blow after crushing blow, he finally understood. He could see the scene perfectly, with even more clarity than when he was actually there.   
  
It was in 2001, and the annual King of Fighters tournament was in motion. Terry was amazing in his performance, clearly outshining his two teammates in Rock's eyes. He swiftly beat a couple of teams, and Rock even came in to join during the victories.  
  
But then came the final fight in which they lost. A grey haired guy in leather went up against Terry, and though the blonde fought hard, he ended up falling to the flames of his opponent.  
  
But Terry wasn't phased at all. Rock never understood how calm and casual he was after losing the match, congradulating his teammates and joking with the other opponents. He even went to the person who defeated him and shook his hand.  
  
Rock asked, "how can you be so cool, you lost?"  
  
"But I fought hard." He said calmly.  
  
"But you lost!"  
  
He ruffled the little kid's hair. Terry said, "listen, kid. Trophies and victory parties mean squat when it comes down to it. Just formalities, I never cared for those. He won, that was it. I just gotta get tougher next time, and I'm just gonna go with the wind to my next battle untill then.  
  
"The truth lies in combat, kid. Not in tournament rank or practices. When I can look back, and see that every single inch of me was in the battle, then I won, that's all there is to it."  
  
This philosophizing was too much for the little Rock. Terry gave a thumbs up, "in other words, 'just do it'."  
  
Rock closed his eyes. Just do it. He'd stop with the strategies, fancy footwork or whatever and just concentrate on one thing. And in this case, it was to beat the living shit out of his opponent.  
  
Billy's stick came in for a blow. Rock grabbed it between his hands and landed a blow to Billy's jaw. Another attempt by Billy to whack the kid. Rock jump kicked towards the attack. Billy couldn't believe it.  
  
The stick was kicked straight out of his hand.   
  
The two exchanged blows furiously. Rough granite was up to Rock's back, but he didn't care. He was just gonna do it. The punches and kicks came through him like a dream, with the pain being distant and remote from him. Putting all his strenght in one punch his knocked his opponent away. He was just gonna do it.  
  
The ruins behind him crumbled even more furiously. The ground beneath him trembled. Billy Cane's eyes swelled with tears from the energy, before being knocked away with a force only one other person could have possesed.  
  
Rock was just gonna do it.  
  
And he did.  
  
Oh shit.  
  
Rock breathed heavily. He shook his head furiously. His finernails dug into his palm as he stared into his fallen opponent, blue flames still flickering over his body. Shit, Rock's mind could only panic. Shit shit shit shitshiiiiiit.  
  
He could only sit and stare at the rubble.  
  
Later, Billy Cane had come to him and said in an unemotional voice, "that was the rising storm, Mr. Howard's move. Truly your father's son, you are. He'd be proud. No matter how much you try, the Howard lineage is still in your blood, in your spirit. What you just did in battle is a reminder of that. It'll be with you always."  
  
Then he left.  
  
An entire summary of his being in a few sentences. That was pretty much it, wasn't it? It was as if all those years he had left meant nothing, at the heart of the battle, he saw the truth. It hurt; a lot.  
  
The debris around him, Southtown. This could've been all his. Being the son of the most powerful crime boss to have lived would've given him unlimited access to anything he wanted. But that just wasn't how things worked out. The building, the blood, the man who would soon be his mentor, his parent, his best friend. That was how it ended, with a bang from a 20 storey building. And the only thing left to the Howard name was that damned rising storm which consumed him at his innermost self.  
  
He turned around to leave. Terry was there, being right where he needed to be as always. Rock had so many words to say. He wanted to mention the full details of the battle, the ugly face he saw deep inside, the wounds that would just never go away, and his greatest fears and anxieties about everything.  
  
Nah, just wasn't their style. He smiled. Terry placed a hand over Rock's shoulder, "let's go."  
  
And they did.  
  
"Wait! Waait! WAAAAAAAIT!" Well, almost.  
  
"Shingo..." Rock hadn't seen his partner in crime since their arrest. He was catching his breath.  
  
"I saw your battle!" He chimed in.  
  
"I'd rather not talk about it."  
  
"What? No good!" He frowned. "You were amazing. You weild the flames. The flames you weilded while not the true flames that I seek are part of my aspirations. I am so glad to have met you!"  
  
Rock said, "yeah..I'm glad to have met you too."  
  
Shingo stood in a serious pose, his fists by his hips in a traditional fighting stance. "What I am wanting to say is...ah...."  
  
He blurted out. "Would you Rock, sir, honor me in a match against our skills??!?!?"  
  
Terry gave him the thumbs up sign. Rock took a deep breath, looked at the sky, and then charged towards the friendly opponent.  
  
"OK!"  
  
Notes: I usually don't write fanfics. But there's just something about the SNK world that's so damn accessable to ficcing. The characters are so cool and the storyline so filled with potential it's just a great deal of fun to write about them. So thanks always to SNK, Playmore, SNK-Playmore, and whatever future name they'll have (SNK-Bob?) for providing these great characters.  
  
Thanks for the reviewers also. Really, I would've probably forgotten all about this fic if not for the occasional e-mail poppoing up with kind words of encouragment. Thanks guys =D  
  
I really need to work on writing fight scenes, but you prolly all saw that already ^^;;; 


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